Damon Albarn and his reformed supergroup The Good, The Bad and the Queen offered
a marvellous spectacle to help celebrate environmental group Greenpeace’s
40th anniversary.

The musical faces of Damon Albarn have been many, from toothy-grinned Britpop champion with Blur, to cartoon pop frontman with Gorillaz, and latterly high-minded Chinese opera architect. Each have been varied, forward-looking, and wildly successful. Yet rarely had he seemed more relaxed and accomplished than at this more low key affair, a one-off show with reformed supergroup The Good, The Bad and the Queen, alongside The Clash’s Paul Simonon, Afrobeat pioneer Tony Allen and former Verve guitarist Simon Tong. Playing their first gig in three years, the band’s poised Anglocentric folk and reggae-tinged rock offered a marvellous spectacle to help celebrate environmental group Greenpeace’s 40th anniversary.

It also reminded fans of the fleeting genius of the group’s short-lived prior existence. In front of a reverential crowd at the Coronet in south London who cheered Albarn’s every movement — from apologetic guitar fumbling to throwback pogoing — they played their sole, self-titled album in its entirety, building from gentle acoustic-led opener History Song to anarchic psychedelic freak-out The Good, The Bad and the Queen. In the studio these tracks were submerged in the atmospheric whooshes and whirrs of Brian 'Danger Mouse' Burton’s production, but in the live setting they sounded stripped back and immediate, grounded in a distinctive Afro lilt thanks to Simonon’s rough and ready dub basslines and Allen’s syncopated percussion.

The best moments were driven by Albarn’s surprisingly emotive vocals — a far cry from the jittery shout-singing he exhibited in Blur’s reunion gigs from two summers ago. The sparser arrangements offered him the space to unfurl his range, and he moved seamlessly from Scott Walker-esque baritone croon on top-20 single Kingdom of Doom to a hushed, cracked falsetto on twinkling folk ballad Nature Springs.

Meanwhile, the tunes showcased Albarn at his melancholy best — particularly Herculean, a gripping mini-saga of a track, portentous yet hopeful, which ranks alongside his finest musical achievements. Though written for a different time, the dingy depictions of London landmarks and lines like “we’ll keep singing it’s not too late for you” seemed unsettlingly apt after the summer riots.

There was one last pleasant surprise. With the album’s twelve tracks already filleted and laid bare, the band emerged for an encore. “This is one we started but didn’t finish,” said Albarn, before leading a beautifully pared down rework — or early draft — of the Gorillaz hit On Melancholy Hill. It felt like the reopening of creative floodgates: hopefully the band’s unfinished business doesn’t stop there.